The clarion. [volume] (Jackson, Miss.) 1883-1888, 1887-01-05

| tie to dread while the viii remained un-
der that roof.
The moment everything was safe,
| Ross closed his lantern, and sat for more
than an hour musing in the darkness.
| When he came forth, there was deep
and gloomy cloud upon his brow; the
pale moonbeams fell upon it, through
| the windows, as he passed to his own
room, but the moon-beams failed to re-
veal the black thought that lay hidden
beneath that frown. There was more
than fraud in that hideous thought.
Mr. Clark slept in Zulima's chamber,
upon the couch her delicate limbs had
pressed, and upon the pillow where
her head had found its sweetest slum-
bers.
! Perhaps the fever spirit grew riotous
aud strong on the memory which these
objects aroused, or it might have been
that, without all these "reminiscences,
the illness that came upon him that
night would have proved more painful
still The morning found the heart
stricken man faint and strengthless as a
child.
A vague dreaminess hung about him,
which did not quite amount to delirium,
and yet it could not have been said that
he was quite conscious OF passing
events.
He talked in low voice of his wife
and child; there was something sad and
broken-hearted in every word that he
uttered, totally at variance with his
proud and lofty reserve. He seemed to
take little interest in those about him,
but murmured gently to himself, but al
ways of them If this was delirium-
and it must have been, so totally was 1t
at variance with his previous manner
there was something exceedingly touch
| ing and mournful in it, for the death
bed of that noble and strong man seem
ed marked by a degree of solemn tender
ness that might have befitted the death
pillow of loving woman.
At first the disease seemed scarcely
more than an attack of nervous fever,
such as often follow violent excitement.
| The spirits of Heaven who guarded tnat
death-bed alone can tell if neglect or ir
ritation. or deeper and darker causes
combined to terminate that slight illness
in death.
Ross was his attendant; constant and
unceasing was the assiduity of his
watch. No physician, no friend entered
the siek-room, and for three days that
noble man lay struggling with death, in
the presence of his bitterest~enemy, and
one faithful old body servant, who
could only watch and weep over the
| master who wss to him almost more than
| mortal.
Then came the third night, and still
! the failing man was alone with that one
old negro, who would not be sent away /;
and over him bent the household vi
per, whose sting had been worse than
| death.
A dim lamp was in the room, and
through the open windows came the
night air in soft, sweet gushes, making
| the muslin draperies tremble in the tiar-
ing lamplight.
/ Daniel Clark turned upon his pillow !;
his ewes opened wide, ard he moved his
| hands in the air. as if seeking to grasp
| at something. Ross bent over and spoke
to him, but the dying man closed his
| eyes, and motioned the traitor away
with his hand.
The old negro came up, choking back
the tears, and bent his gray head gently
over his master Again Clark opened
| his ewes: a sudden light came into
| them. and smile stole over the whole
face.
| ssBend down." he whispered; bend
close to me, my old servant, for am
dying"
| The old man bent his head still lower,
holding his breath, and checking the
tears that swelled his faithful heart.
| "Dear master, | listen"
| Clark lifted his hand, and grasped
that of the old man with a feeble
hold.
"My wife-my childl See that no
wrong is done them"
| The old man looked down upon that
ashen face with surprise. This must
be delirium," he thought, "for my poor
master had neither wife nor child"
| The eyes of the dying man were
misty, but he saw the doubt in his ser
wants face. A look of distress passed
| over his own, and he made a vain effort
to collect the power of speech. But he
could only say, "the will-that must
tell you lit is below, take it into your
own hands the moment | am dead; and
take it Toto
/ "To master Rossf' said the old man.
observing that his masters voice was
| sinking.
| "Nol Mop These words broke from
the dying man with his last breath; he
| feel back upon the pillow; his hands
wandered upward for an instant, and
then fell heavily upon the bed. Still
| his eyes were open-still they were fixed
with mournfnl intensity upon the old
mans face.
''He is gonew murmured Ross, bend
| ing his ashen face over the ashen face of
the dead.
"He is gonep' cried the poor old ser
want, wringing his hands and sobbiug
aloud; she is gone and without taking
the old man with him."
Then the faithful old creature cast
himself upon his knees, and taking the
pale hand of the dead between his ebony
palms, lifted up his voice, and wept.
While the voice of his grief filled the
room, while his faithful heart seemed
pouring itself out in tears, Ross turned
softly and stole from the room.
a few brief minutes the old negro
gave to his sorrow. Then amid his
tears he remembered the last words oi
the dead. He did not pause to close
with reverent hands, the eyes that still
seemed regarding him with earnest com
mand. He did but compose the lifeless
limbs, and draw the sheet over those
loved features, before he went down tt
obey tie last behest of the-dead.
The poor old man went forth from
the death-chamber, guided by the gra,
dawn. HIS tread was slow and mourn
full. You could scarcely hear him as b.
passed along, for it seemed TO him tha
the faintest sound might disturb hi
master.
He reached the library; his hand wa
upon the latch; he turned it with
, curious regard to sound, not with pre-
meditation, but because the death seem
, he had witnessed made the least nois
/ appear to him like sacrilege.
Il But the door remained firm. 1t wa
, evidently locked within, for through tn
keyhole streamed faint light, and wit
/ the light came the indistinct sound O
rustling papers, and the cautions trea,
of footstep. The old man bent his ey
: to the keyhoie, and looked in.
si Directly within the range of his visiol
> stood Mr.. Clark's escritoire wide oper
and by it was Ross searching among th
papers in an ebony box, which the oil
/ man knew as the repository of his mas
: ter's most valuable documents. Ros
Z took from this box voluminous parce
thrust it in his bosom, and CAREFUL
} locking the escritoire, held up the lighi
! and looked timidly around as if fearful
. of the very silence Then with quici
! noiseless tread he passed across tn
| room.
Il His face was deathlY pale, and th
: old negro saw that the lamp shook an
swaled in his hand There was frs
/ place in the room, but the door con
) manded no view of it, and the old ma
/ strained his sight in vain to secure ful